


Life, Love

by zipadeea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also he's sad, and viktor is sad, but he waits one day, really no romance though, the dog still dies :(, the result is still the same, viktor is so soft and kind, yuuri is a sad drunk instead of a wild one, yuuri is so good but doesn't believe anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipadeea/pseuds/zipadeea
Summary: At the Grand Prix Final in Sochi, Yuuri skates a personal best and wins a bronze medal.The next day, his mother calls with the most terrible news.***In which Vicchan lives one more day, Yuuri is a sad drunk, and everything still ends up the same.





	Life, Love

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating in my head for days. Now it's late, so there are probably mistakes, but imma post still. Hope you like it!

Yuuri is just laying his head down to sleep when his phone rings.  

He’s ready to roll over and ignore it, his phone has been buzzing incessantly all afternoon, but luckily, he holds back his sigh and tilts the screen up to see the caller.  

“Minako!” Yuuri yelps. “I should’ve called sooner, I’m sorry, it’s been such a busy afternoon--,” 

“Yuuri,” his teacher breathes out, “Oh Yuuri, you were spectacular. Best you’ve ever skated, bar none. I’m so, so proud of you, Yuuri.”  

Yuuri swipes a finger under his damp eyes and chuckles. “Still not good enough for gold. Not even silver—,” 

“Oh, shush you. You had your best scores by miles, and you medaled. Today, Katsuki Yuuri, you are officially the third best figure skater in the entire _world_. Be proud of yourself!”  

“I am.” Yuuri says quietly, surprised when he realizes he actually means it. He is proud. He’s proud of his performance, he’s proud of his medal. He’s proud of the smile he put on Ciao Ciao’s face and he’s proud of Phichit’s gushing, rambling Instagram post explicitly stating just how proud _he_ is of Yuuri. Most of all, Yuuri is proud of himself.  

He feels strong. He feels validated.  

He feels he completely earned his blush after Viktor Nikiforov smiled that perfect, blinding smile straight at him and said, “Good job!” as they stood next to one another on the podium for the first time.  

“Well, good on that,” Minako says thickly, sniffling. “Everyone is excited for you to come home. You’re still flying in early for Nationals, right?”  

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there.” 

Home. Home with Mari and Mom and Dad and those triplets who are already _six_ and Takeshi and Yuuko and-- 

“That puppy of yours is sure ready to see you. Yips like mad every time he can hear someone talking to you over the phone.”  

Yuuri can’t help but smile.  

“Just a couple more weeks.” Yuuri tries and fails to stifle a loud yawn.  

“Bah, go to sleep. I probably woke you up didn’t I? You had a long day, and I’m sure your family is going to talk to you for hours tomorrow. And you’ve got the exhibition skate, my goodness! Sleep, Yuuri!” Minako loudly implores, and Yuuri grins again.  

“Goodnight, Minako-sensei.” 

Minako laughs. “At this point, I think you could teach me more than I ever taught you, Yuuchan.” 

“Now you’re just speaking nonsense.”  

But the words still make Yuuri feel totally, completely and very irrationally proud.  

000 

Yuuri is half an hour from his exhibition skate when his mother calls. He picks up on the first ring.  

“Mom! Mom, I’m so sorry I didn’t call yesterday, now really isn’t a great time either, but I miss you! Did you watch--,” 

“Yuuri,” his mother says softly, her tone silencing him immediately. “Yuuri, something—something has happened.” 

“Something” obviously isn’t _good_. 

“What?” Yuuri asks quickly. “What happened? Is everyone all--,” 

“Baby, it’s Vicchan. He—oh, Yuuri, he died last night. I’m so sorry.” 

000 

They found out Vicchan had heart disease last month at his regular checkup. The doctor told his mother dogs often live months, even years after being diagnosed if they take proper medication.  

Vicchan lived fifteen days.  

“We had a big party to watch you, and everything was so crowded and loud. And Vicchan was playing with the triplets all night, and your father fed him some katsudon and then Vicchan was just—oh he was so excited when he saw you on the TV baby, he was so happy. But I think it all—it was just too much on his poor little heart. It worked too hard and he just—he didn’t wake up this morning.” Mom is crying by the end.  

Yuuri feels numb.  

“Yuuri. Yuuri, honey, please say something.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was sick?” 

Mom sighs. “We found out right before your birthday, and then you qualified for the Grand Prix final. We didn’t want to stress you or disrupt your practice. You worked so hard, baby. And it showed, oh, my darling, you were beautiful. We’re all so proud--,” 

“Katsuki?” An accented voice asks through the locker room door. “Yuuri Katsuki, are you ready? You’re on in five.” 

“I have to go,” Yuuri chokes out. “I have the exhibition skate now.” 

Mom gasps.  

“Oh Yuuri, oh _shit,_ ” and wow, his mother never curses. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told you now, oh damn it all--,” 

“It’s fine, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”  

“Yuuri--,” 

Yuuri hangs up the phone. 

000 

Ciao Ciao frowns when he sees Yuuri approaching the ice.  

“Yuuri, are you alright? There’s nothing to be nervous about now, kiddo. You can take out all the jumps if you’d like, I don’t care. This is supposed to be fun.” 

But Yuuri isn’t nervous.  

He’s just frighteningly sad.  

“Kiddo, did something happen? Do you feel okay?” Ciao Ciao sticks out a hand and feels Yuuri’s forehead. “Are you sick?”  

Yuuri pushes the hand away and swallows thickly.  

“My mom just called. My dog died.” 

The dog Celestino Cialdini has fondly mocked Yuuri and Phichit for FaceTiming weekly, the sweet little poodle whose picture Yuuri kept in his wallet, hung on his locker, had framed on his bedside table. The dog Ciao Ciao begrudgingly and unprompted spent outrageous amounts of money to send a toy to every Christmas, along with a card to Yuuri’s family, because Ciao Ciao is a kind man and a good coach and it always made Yuuri smile.  

“Aww kid,” Ciao Ciao moans, before pulling Yuuri into a hug. “I’m sorry.”  

Celestino pulls back after a few moments, and looks Yuuri hard in the eye. “Are you okay to skate? It’s fine if you’re not, it’s just the gala skate. I don’t want you hurting yourself so close to Nationals.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri says softly. “I’m not even nervous anymore.” Just sad.  

Yuuri’s just sad. He’ll be fine.  

000 

Yuuri is not fine.  

Oh, his skating is fine. His skating is probably even better than yesterday, if Yuuri had to guess. A Yuuri Katsuki skating without any nerves or stress is a new animal he has yet to unleash upon the world.  

But Yuuri himself? He’s a mess.  

He thought he’d be able to bottle in his emotions for a few minutes, run through the routine and then go hide out in his hotel room, sit in the shower and cry until his flight out of Sochi.  

Instead, Audrey Hepburn starts crooning Moon River over the speakers and Yuuri cries on the ice.  

His first thought is, wow, it’s a good thing I never skate with glasses or contacts, otherwise I’m so blinded by tears I’d be fucked right now.  

His second thought is, why the hell did I choose this stupid song? 

Yuuri knows why, though. Because he watched _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ and watched Audrey Hepburn sing in her windowsill with her hair wrapped up in a towel and all Yuuri heard was hope. Hope for life and love and good and dreams.  

Now, as he cries and skates and cries, all Yuuri hears is hopelessness. And loneliness. And loss.  

So that’s how he skates.  

000 

When the song is finally over, Yuuri doesn’t take a bow or wave or catch plushies. He skates off the ice as quickly as he can, frantically scrubbing his eyes with his arm, hoping he doesn’t crash in to the rink boards.  

Ciao Ciao pulls him in to another hug. “I know you’re really sad right now, but I swear to God, that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. It was perfect, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri pulls back to find a tissue box shoved nearly in his face. He grabs a tissue and swipes at his tear-swollen eyes, allowing him to finally see the box.  

A tissue box covered by a fluffy brown toy poodle, held out by a slim, pale hand.  

Yuuri lets out one yelped sob before scrambling away.  

000 

“Kid, if you don’t go to this banquet, I’m officially the worst coach on the planet.” 

Yuuri groans into his pillow, refusing to look up.  

“I’m serious, Yuuri. You’re the talk of the whole final, especially after the exhibition. Sponsors are chomping at the bit to see to you. Not being at the banquet is really going to hurt your career--,” 

“I don’t care.”  

Ciao Ciao sighs. Yuuri can feel the bed dip as his coach sits down beside him. “Please, Yuuri? Two hours, that’s all I’m asking. I’ll even do most of the talking, you just need to be there. Please? For me?”  

Yuuri wishes he’d learned how to be selfish without guilt.  

“Two hours. Then I’m gone.” 

000 

Forty-five minutes into the banquet, Yuuri feels ready to die.  

Ciao Ciao, blessing that he is, has already secured three new sponsors for Yuuri, whilst Yuuri was frowning by his side, intermittently staring off into space and guzzling down a flute of champagne each time a waiter walked by.  

“Jesus, Yuuri, that was the president of the ISU. Can’t you at least _pretend_ to try?” Celestino whispers to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and stealing away his latest flute of bubbly.  

“You said two hours. You said nothing about trying,” Yuuri nearly whines, dragging himself away from his coach and heading to the doors.  

“Where are you going?”  

“Bathroom.” 

“If you’re not back in ten, I’m--,” But Yuuri does not know what his coach will do because he’s already gone.  

Surprisingly, Yuuri does go to the bathroom. Then, he finds an alcove with a window seat and a city view across the hall and decides it’s a very lovely place to spend the next hour and fifteen minutes of his forced socialization.  

The plan, however, is ruined when a tall man approaches Yuuri’s secret hideaway, idly whistling an off-key version of Moon River. When he sees Yuuri he stops short.  

The man eventually steps out of the shadows, and Yuuri can’t help but snort.  

Of course, Viktor fucking Nikiforov finds him, because Yuuri’s life is kind of a soap opera. A sitcom? A depressing anime pilot episode? 

“I think your coach is looking for you.” Viktor finally says, and Yuuri laughs humorlessly.  

“Okay.” Yuuri doesn’t move.  

“Can I sit with you?”  

Yuuri shrugs, and Viktor Nikiforov sits down. The window seat isn’t very large. Their shoulders are touching.  

“I’m sorry I upset you today,” Viktor says softly, and Yuuri’s head snaps up to stare.  

 _What?_  

Viktor’s blue eyes squint, and his thin lips pull down in a frown. “You know, when—I tried to give you a tissue after, and you ran away? I’m sorry, I don’t know—It doesn’t matter, I'm just sorry.” 

Yuuri takes a deep breath and leans his head back on the cold window. His shirt collar grows wet with condensation.  

“It wasn’t you. It was the box.” 

This time Viktor’s head snaps to him. His eyes are piercing, not even a foot away. His head tilts with his confusion.  

“I--my mom called me before the exhibition started. My dog died last night. He was a toy poodle, looked a lot like your tissue box, to be honest. And I—well, I was kind of a mess already, but the box didn’t help. It’s not your fault.” 

Viktor mimics Yuuri and leans his head against the window, closing his eyes. “You’re much stronger than me, then. If--,” Viktor sighs heavily, “When my Makkachin dies, I do not think I will be able to leave my bed for at least a week. Probably longer.” 

“Yes, well, I’m sure it hasn’t been literally _years_ since you’ve seen your dog in person. God, I can barely even call him my dog any more, Mari and Mom and Dad were the ones to take care of him because I had to go _follow my dreams_. Is it--,” Yuuri’s voice breaks. “Is it worth it? What if it’s not worth it? I’ve missed so many things with my family and my friends and now my dog is dead and I dream more in English than I ever do in Japanese and the triplets are _six_ and--,” 

“Yuuri.” Viktor says it sharply, one of those long thin hands squeezing his knee tightly. “Yuuri, take a breath.”  

Yuuri listens.  

“Maybe it’s time to go home. Maybe I should be finished, end all this on a high note.” 

Viktor hasn’t let go of his knee.  

“If you retire before I do Katsuki Yuuri, it would be a sin. Your skating today was like—it was like watching music. I couldn’t look away. It was magnificent, and you haven’t even peaked yet.” 

Yuuri can feel the unwanted blush staining his cheeks, profusely thankful for the darkness of their corner. 

“I’ve just—I've been neglecting my life and the people I love for a long time, Viktor.” The hand on Yuuri’s knee grows tight to the point of pain.  

“Then go home. That doesn’t mean you retire. Skate in Japan.” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Ciao Ciao likes me, but even he would need to be properly comped to move to Japan just for me, and I don’t have that kind of money.” 

Silence.  

“I could be your coach.” The words are said softly, but his voice is firm. It’s not a joke.  

Yuuri still laughs. “How much champagne have you had tonight?” 

“Not nearly as much as you, Yuuri. I’m being serious. I’ll be your coach. I’ll come to Japan. You wouldn’t ever have to pay me until you won.” 

Yuuri’s jaw drops at Viktor’s very open, very earnest expression. He pushes his silver hair back agitatedly; it makes him look young.  

“ _Why?_ ” 

“Because it’s not worth it, Yuuri. Not after a while. The pride wears off and the smiles grow fake and happiness becomes expectation which will inevitably fall into despair. I’d like to have a life outside the ice. I’m tired of being alone on the top. And if finding life includes being your coach, I’ll count that as my act of good for the world, because everyone in the world should see the art that is your skating.” 

Yuuri can hear it as he swallows.  

“What was your dog’s name?” Viktor finally asks, after the silence has grown too loud.  

Yuuri can’t help it; he laughs out loud.  

“Um, Yuuri--,” 

“Viktor.” 

“Yes?” 

“No, my dog—his name was Viktor. After you. Twelve-year-old me was hopelessly smitten with you. You should see all the posters I have—it's a bit ridiculous.” Any other time, Yuuri would have probably puked with embarrassment, would have vowed to never look Viktor Nikiforov in the eye again, the shame simply too great.  

But Yuuri is sad, and he’s drunk, and Viktor is—he's _nice_. Yuuri knows many things about Viktor Nikiforov, but this—the fact that he is kind and good and...human--is the best of all.  

“You named your dog after _me_?” Viktor asks, voice incredulous. Yuuri smiles finally, he can’t help it, his eyes squinting with the pure disbelief in Viktor’s tone.  

Viktor smiles back. It’s not the same smile as he gave Yuuri on the podium. This smile is wider, showing off the crooked tooth on the bottom of his mouth. His nose scrunches up, and what Yuuri can see of his blue, blue eyes twinkles with the cityscape through the window.  

“Will you really be my coach? You’ll--you really want to come to Japan with me? You barely even know me.” 

Viktor’s grin grows impossibly wider.  

“Yes, well, you named your beloved pet after me and you definitely didn’t know me. I think we will be okay.” 

And they are. 

000


End file.
